Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1)

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Daddy, I knew you’d come,” the child cried, the terror on his face clear as day. Aside from that, he looked uninjured. Habraum turned to Sam, at first not seeing any injury. But on closer inspection, the Cerc couldn’t miss the slim, shiny spike sticking from Sam’s right side. The sight sent a cold shock through Habraum. Suddenly he was back on that battle-ravaged Beridaas grassland, and the horror of Sam lying near death. The only other survivor.

  Jeremy’s frightened fingers digging into Habraum’s chest jerked him back to the present with urgency. Still holding his son, the Cerc moved closer to examine Sam’s wound. A dark stain was blossoming on her white tee around the silvery spike. “What happened?”

  Sam gritted her teeth and brushed back her long hair. “Was trying…to get Jeremy away from the danger when more ass—.” She glanced at Jeremy and corrected herself. “—more Children of Earth goons sprang out of nowhere. They must…must’ve been attacking another part of the zoo.

  “I took out two of them, but couldn’t really go full-flame…holding Jeremy. So I got nailed from behind by that guy.” Sam pointed at the Children of Earth agent, twitching and charbroiled, lying closest to them. Jeremy turned to look, but Habraum wouldn’t let him.

  “Got him after…the fact.” Her taut smile faded. “Pull it out.”

  Habraum stared at her like she had grown a third eye. “Are you skittery, Sammie? I’m no doctor!”

  Sam closed her eyes, trying to maintain her composure and utterly failing. “Habraum, I don’t know what…the hell this thing’s laced with! But by the stars dancing in front of my eyes I know it’s something. Plus, its not that deep.” Sam growled, gesturing toward the spike. “Pull it out.”

  Habraum stared at her for a long moment before finally relenting. “Alright, then. Turn around, Jeremy. And cover your ears.” When the boy did as told, Habraum got a solid grip on the spike.

  “On the count of three. One, two—.” Habraum yanked out the spike and a spurt of blood on himself.

  In her shock and pain, Sam screamed a choice expletive that made Habraum clamp a hand over her mouth. She slapped it away, clutching at the bleeding gouge in her side. “You said on three, you ass!”

  Habraum tossed the bloody spike away. “If I actually said three, it woulda hurt more. Now keep pressure on that wound. Your regenocytes should help staunch the bleeding.” Even with the regenerative neuronanocytes in her system, which most Union citizens received at birth, Sam’s continued blood loss concerned Habraum greatly. He slipped out of his shirt, balling it up and put pressure against Sam’s wound. In no time, a dark red wetness saturated the garment. Tattooed on Habraum’s broad left shoulder was the Union AeroFleet roundel; a narrow eight-point star, pitch-black and sprinkled with white dots against an ivory background, all bordered by a wide crimson sphere-shaped outline.

  Sam gazed lustfully at Habraum’s strapping torso. “If that’s to help me forget the pain, it’s working.”

  “Stop it,” Habraum snapped, keeping an arm around Jeremy and the other pressed on Sam’s wound. The amount of blood she was still losing troubled him. “Keep pressure on it while I call—.”

  “Don’t worry, I sent an SOS to a Medcenter just before you came.” Sam smiled. Habraum could see her brown eyes clouding over. “So you took on those guys back there without even getting a scratch on you?” she shook her head in amazement. “Talk about not having any field rust.”

  “I got an HLHG training suite at the Albion address,” he replied. “I've been known to take her for a spin—.”

  “DADDY!” Habraum didn’t even look up. He calmly aimed his fist and shot off a bright crimson blast over his son’s head. A shocked grunt confirmed his aim struck true. He glanced in that direction and saw the prone Children of Earth agent from earlier, now crumpled against a tree. Habraum turned back to Sam, who stared at him. “A spin or two,” he admitted diffidently. “Or three.”

  Sam’s shock gave way to a knowing grin. “Just like old times out in the field, no?”

  Not if I can help it, Habraum frowned. Before he could reply, the blinding flash of lights and the familiar medtransport siren flooded their senses.

  Jeremy recoiled from the discord, but Habraum held him close. “It’s just MetroPol and the Medcenter Transport, sprout. We’re safe.” The child nodded mutely. He marveled at how well Jeremy was taking all this mayhem. “Can you stand?” Habraum asked Sam, taking a knee.

  She grimaced. “I can try.” Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead as she struggled to her feet.

  “I’ll help.” He slipped an arm around her waist while holding onto Jeremy, waiting for the medics to reach them. In short order, all three were met by a cadre of metrocops and medimechs, ushered into the red-and-blue medtransport and whisked away to the nearest Medcenter.

  4.

  The GUPR Bicameral Hall was the epicenter of everything political in the mega city-state of Conuropolis and on Terra Sollus. One look at the nightmarish traffic lanes parked in the surrounding areas and anyone could find the building. But it wasn’t because of its simple yet magnificent design or how the domed top reflected Rhyne’s starlight at all times of the day that made many hold it in such reverence.

  Most of the Bicameral Hall’s neighbors were starscrapers, towering over it by several hundred stories, punching through the clouds like blades. The Hall didn’t even reach skyscraper height, so its squatness clearly wasn’t the reason either. What made this edifice so compelling had more to do with the potent decisions that took place within; decisions that could literally shape worlds or tear them apart.

  From the outside, any sentient could see the influences from several Union member-races in the Bicameral Hall’s design. The ocean-blue dome roofing the complex, mimicking constantly fluid water, and the streaming fountains around the property were of Galdorian origin. Statues of famous lawmakers from the Union’s past, placed all around the building, came right out of Earth human history. The building’s basic square design, wide but low to the ground, along with the marble-white hue of the walls had Kudoban style written all over them. The most celebrated piece of the Hall’s exterior came from more than one race. The names of each Galactic Union memberworld and dates they joined were all etched into the hexagonal foundation of Bicameral Hall, with plenty of room for future memberworlds.

  The Hall’s insides were equally arresting, designed to fit in two separate assembly rooms. The first was for the Union Delegation, much larger but more understated in elegance. The stadium-like setup fit perfectly to situate the hundreds of delegates from each Union memberworld, territory and colony-world. Still, the Delegation Chamber was seen as a cut-rate knockoff of its sister hall—the Senatorial Chambers.

  With walls covered in prolific designs from all the memberworlds, this second amphitheater seated the vast body of Union Senators. Three Senators from each of the eighty-seven memberworlds sat in oval-bottomed divans, row after raised row encircling the centermost platform on the floor.

  Chouncilor Ari Bogosian sat on the highest chair on that platform, eyeing the sea of Senators before him. The years had peppered his black mane with streaks of grey and creased his face with lines. Being the leader of a star-spanning hyperpower will do that to anyone. Despite this, Bogosian still looked as hale as when he first took the office of Galactic Union Chouncilor six years ago.

  Today the Bicameral Chamber crackled with delicious tension. A veneer of murmured civility veiled the usual squabbles and powerbrokering Bogosian had grown accustom to witnessing from these politicos. This was a normal prelude to the Monthly Inquest where Union Senators would grill, or at times attack the Chouncilor on his job performance. Some Senators probed out of genuine interest for the Galactic Union’s current state, usually the Temperate and Technocratic Parties. Others—mainly with Populist Party ties—focused on how his policies affected their worlds. Then came the fanatical Theocrats, ultraconservative Imperialists and other minor parties, generally out to vilify the Chouncilor for not having a more ce
ntralized government or some other petty slight. Bogosian welcomed the onslaught.

  Numerous holovid recorders stationed along the vaulted ceiling broadcast the Senate session to every planet in Union space. The Inquest arbiter and Prime of the Bicameral, Vice-Chouncilor Morje’Huijadan, rose from his seat below Ari to recognize a Senator’s question. Ari sighed heavily. Never could he voice how annoying this whole Inquest was, especially in front of the guest sitting beside him.

  “The Senate will now recognize Senator Onthar-Khada of Kintare,” the Voton’s voice boomed across the amphitheater. His green skin emitted a soft glow, as did the three crests on his bald head. Bogosian eyed him proudly; glad to have the Voton as his assertive and intimidating second-in-command.

  The chamber’s floating viewscreens focused on Onthar-Khada with his short yet smooth coat of black fur. “Chouncilor,” the feline Senator purred, rising to his towering six-foot-seven-inch height. The Kintarian’s gold-flecked eyes zeroed in on Ari as if he were prey. “I understand the significance of our trade agreement with the Kedri Imperium. But in building the proper comm spires and monitors for this trade route, Kintare’s own trade routes and spacelanes have been severely compromised. We need this lessened in order to properly function.” Onthar-Khada asking this wasn’t surprising, given that Kintare’s Senators were usually moderate Populists. The other two Senators at his divan nodded in agreement, both strikingly different from their fellow Senator and each other in feline attributes. One Kintarian more massive in size than Onthar-Khada sported a luxurious shaggy mane around his face, which complemented his auburn fur and golden stripe patterns. The other, a female shorter and slimmer in build, had a glossy white coat spotted in black.

  The murmurs hushed as Bogosian stood behind his podium sonor-amp. The Union-Imperium Trade Merger was his brainchild. It was also the first time that the warlike Kedri had ever done any peaceful collaboration of this magnitude with another hyperpower. Bogosian planned for all in the Union to benefit from this historic endeavor. “V’Gandu,” Ari addressed the Senator by first name. “I understand your concerns, but those issues are only short-term negatives to a wealth of long-term positives. Kintare is one of the focal points of this new trade route, so imagine the boost it will give all Union worlds in its swathe.

  “The construction near Kintare will finish within the next month, roughly three weeks before the official date of the Trade Merger. And I have it on good authority that the Imperium is most interested in doing business with the Kintare for its diversity of arboreal resources.” Bogosian sat back down. Onthar-Khada, seemingly satisfied, also sat and went into a soft purring discussion with his fellow Senators.

  “The Senate will recognize Senator Guilloche of Rhomera.” Bogosian barely held back a scowl. Even the Vice-Chouncilor betrayed irritation when speaking the name. The chamber atmosphere seemed to tense up. Holovid cameras and floating viewscreens zoomed in on the Senator rising from his divan.

  There could not have been a more dissimilar species from the graceful, catlike Kintarian Senators. Guilloche, with his oily and cream-colored skin, had numerous tentacles instead of legs, all covered by lavishly expensive robes. Like all Rhomerans, he had no humanoid-like nose, only a high ridge with millions of tiny holes for breathing. Just under that ridge was a curtain of several fleshy wattles hanging down near Guilloche’s throat, constantly twitching to express his emotions. In their culture, Rhomerans had made such art forms out of spying, power brokering, backstabbing and character assassination, their methods were actually studied at universities. So fixed were Rhomerans with gaining power that they would even professionally cripple any parent, sibling or progeny if they became a threat to them. And Mre Guilloche was one of the worst, or according to other Rhomerans, one of the best.

  Guilloche, leader of the Imperialist Party and one of the most powerful Senators in the Bicameral, was also Bogosian’s biggest detractor on just about every issue—especially the Union-Imperium Trade Route. And for obvious reasons—Guilloche wanted the Chouncilorship. His bulging black eyes focused on Bogosian. “Chouncilor,” his voice sounded like a human gargling mouthwash. “I ask about a relevant topic that you seem to have forgotten in the past several months, the Galactic Union’s economy.”

  Bogosian frowned. “What about the economy? It’s in surplus, Senator.”

  “I haven’t asked my question yet,” Guilloche retorted, his tone bordering on discourteous. “According to your Job Creation Act, forty million new jobs should have been created in the span of the last six months. Where are they, Chouncilor? And are they actually unrelated to the Trade Route?”

  Some of Guilloche’s supporters murmured in agreement, others shouted. Their sentiments echoed off the Senate Chamber walls. As Bogosian rose in rebuttal, a hush swept over the assembly. He knew the Rhomeran Senator was trying to embarrass him, not just in front of the Union holovids, but also his guest. Bogosian would not let that happen. Many Senators watched in anticipation for the latest round of verbal sparring between the most powerful being in the Northeastern Milky Way and his most vocal rival.

  “First off, Guilloche, you said you had a question when it was actually two!” The Senators rippled in a collective titter. Guilloche stood like a statue, the only signs of life were in his twitching wattles.

  “Secondly, my Defense Initiative—the one you voted against—includes upgrading the planetary defense arrays for all Union memberworlds, colony-worlds and territories over the next two years. This renovation will require more hires from our defense contractors.

  “Now, according to the figures drawn up by my Executive Ministry, the jobs created will be triple that of the forty million I originally predicted and will start well within the six months that I projected. Did that answer your questions, Guilloche?” Bogosian leaned in on his sonor-amp with a cold smile.

  The Rhomeran wattles flapped crossly as he gargled out a retort. “I voted against your Defense Initiative because an upgrade of this magnitude was needless. Those arrays are in superb condition.”

  “Is that the real reason, Guilloche?” Bogosian cocked an incredulous eyebrow. “Or is it that your lobbyist friends at ArmoryTek were outbid on the contract to build the new arrays?” The whole chamber let out an “Oooh” in response, like a high school class reacting from a well-placed insult. Guilloche vibrated his wattles furiously and gurgled something nasty in the Rhomeran tongue. Clearly one-upped, he sat down sullenly and went into quick discourse with his fellow Rhomeran Senators. Bogosian eased into his seat, grinning from ear to ear. That last jab struck a bit hard, but he frankly didn’t care. Putting the Rhomeran in his place was always so satisfying.

  After a full macrom of laughter, Morje’Huijadan stood up on his podium. The Senatorial Chambers went quiet once more. “Due to other matters on the agenda, the Union Inquest is adjourned early today. And with great honor, I give the floor back to Chouncilor Ari Bogosian.”

  Out came a thunderous applause as Ari stood up once more. He raised his hands to silence the raucous crowd and they did so agreeably. “Thank you my fellow Unionists, thank you. Today, I’m here to talk about Senator Guilloche’s favorite topic, the Union-Imperium Trade Route.” More laughter rippled through the crowd. Guilloche’s quiet gurgling practically turned into snarling. “In less than two months we will initiate the largest trade agreement in history benefiting every world from Terra Sollus all the way to Kedria,” Ari boomed. Another spattering of applause, yet not as ecstatic as before. “On top of that, the Imperium is joining us to build a battle station, the Amalgam, which will help patrol the Trade Route.

  “It evokes Earth’s first contact with the Galdorians in 2079. Without their help, it might have taken centuries for earthborn humans to reach beyond the Solar System. There’s still much we can learn outside of our diverse culture. I believe the Kedri can help us continue these learnings.

  “So let me introduce the sentient behind the Amalgam. Representing the Kedri Imperium, Prime Potentiary Biros of House Nor!�
�� Ari pointed to his guest and began to clap. At this point, all the holovid recorders shut off. However, the internal viewscreens stayed on, as the Senate was about to discuss matters not yet ready for public consumption. Many Senators followed Bogosian’s lead and clapped politely. Surprised murmurs grew more audible when the Kedri diplomat rose to his full height.

  Though he and Biros had met many times in the past, Bogosian still marveled at the male Kedri’s commanding presence. Aside from his blood-red skin tone, he resembled an ordinary Kedri male of seven feet in height. The Kedri’s physique, thick with powerfully-built muscle, jutted out beneath his flowing black and green robes. The Kedri’s skin was thick and scaly, like a reptile. Multiple dagger-like bony protrusions or kutaa studded each side of Biros’s broad jaw. Thick ivory-white hair, tumbling past his broad shoulders, was tied in a semi-taut plait at the base of his neck and cut in the traditional Kedri shorlong style—short in the front, long in the back. His overarched forehead flaunted an intricate, yet symmetrical, design that nearly all Kedri were born with, albeit some variances. Biros’s stance bordered on arrogance. His beady dark eyes, partly concealed by his brow, swept coolly over the settled body of Senators.

  Ari beamed proudly and took his seat as Biros approached his sonor-amp. Militaristic, territorial and with an unquenchable thirst for war best described Kedri culture. Their ‘attack first, ask questions never’ brand of diplomacy had led to a rather abrasive relationship with the Galactic Union over the centuries. Yet, after years of talks, today a Kedri addressed the Union Senate. Again the chamber quieted down.

  “Senators of the Galactic Union,” Biros’s brusque Kedri accented voice boomed across the Chambers. “I bid you greetings on behalf of the vast Imperium and Sovereign Orok of House Kel.”